


baby cheeks

by conclusions (introductions)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Babies Are Gross and Scary, Babysitting, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, This Is STUPID, donghyuck is a terrible babysitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductions/pseuds/conclusions
Summary: Donghyuck invokes the wrath of the Devil Incarnate (a 14-month-old baby), calls his boyfriend, and remembers why he fell in love with him in the first place.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 33
Kudos: 584





	baby cheeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grimrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimrose/gifts).



> this is the result of  
> a) too much caffeine  
> b) a conversation with roosa about the horror that is pregnancy and why babies are ridiculous which then lead to  
> c) a conversation about markhyuck as babysitters. 
> 
> this is a disaster and my best attempt and humor don't look at me roosa i'm giving this to you it's yours now take it away from me 
> 
> (ps this is barely proofread have mercy)

“Siri, call Mark Lee,” Donghyuck shouts into his phone over the sound of demonic, high-pitched wailing. 

“Calling Mark Lee,” Siri informs him patiently, and Donghyuck waits with sweaty palms as the phone rings. And rings. And rings. And shit, Mark’s not going to answer because he’s in class, or he’s smoking with friends, or he’s with Johnny, and Donghyuck is going to die here, behind this sofa, with the Devil Incarnate screaming in the background. 

But then the ringing stops, and Mark’s voice filters through the phone, confused and tinny: “Donghyuck?”

“Baby,” Donghyuck half-shouts, panicked. The wailing gets louder. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Mark asks, still sounding very confused. Donghyuck smacks his forehead, exasperated, and tries again. 

“No, not _you_ ,” Donghyuck says. “I mean an _actual_ baby. A real-life 14-month old _demon._ ” 

“Oh, yeah, you’re babysitting, I forgot,” Mark says. “How’s it going?” 

Donghyuck, in lieu of answering, pulls the phone away from his face and holds it up so Mark can hear the screaming. 

“Bad?” Mark guesses. 

“Very, very, very bad,” Donghyuck confirms. “It won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do, and Google isn’t helping—how do I tell it that I’m _not_ the mom, and I _can’t_ breastfeed—” 

“Whoa, okay, slow down,” Mark interrupts, and Donghyuck latches onto the sound of his voice and takes a deep breath. “Why’d you call me?” 

“Because—I don’t know, you have a dog?” Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut. He’s starting to get a headache. “That’s basically the same thing, right?” 

“Absolutely not,” Mark says, bewildered. “They’re totally different—” 

“Can you please just come over,” Donghyuck begs. “Please. Please. P—” 

“Jesus Christ,” Mark sighs. “Fine. Send the address.” 

“I love you,” Donghyuck says. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, thank you so much.” 

“I love you too,” Mark says, and Donghyuck feels an acute sense of relief wash over him. “I can’t believe you said _please_ so many times.” 

“It was a please-worthy situation,” Donghyuck says darkly, glancing over the back of the sofa at the slightly-opened door to the room the Devil currently dwells in. “You’ll see.” 

* * *

Mark shows up ten minutes later. His hair is wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he’s wearing a hoodie from Donghyuck’s high school, the green one that he’d borrowed when they were hooking up. Two weeks later, he’d worn the hoodie again, and Donghyuck had kissed him in the lights of the Christmas tree downtown and asked Mark to be his boyfriend. And here they are, almost two years later. Except Donghyuck doesn’t really think about kissing Mark right now, not when the baby he’s supposed to be watching is trying her best to bring the house down by crying. 

“Holy shit, she’s loud,” Mark says, dropping his backpack by the door and kicking his shoes off. “What’d you do?” 

“Nothing!” Donghyuck protests, holding up his hands. “She just started for no reason and won’t stop!” 

“Did you try soothing her?” 

“Soothing…her?” Donghyuck says blankly, blinking at Mark. Mark blinks back at him. The baby keeps crying. “No?”

“That’s literally—that’s the first thing you do with a crying kid,” Mark says. “Or _anyone_ who’s crying. It’s the first thing I do with you.” 

“But I’m not a baby,” Donghyuck says, even though he absolutely is. Case in point: he's called his boyfriend because he can't handle a stupid _toddler._

Mark gives Donghyuck a long, measured look, like he knows there’s no point in arguing because he’ll just win. 

“Okay, maybe I am, but how am I supposed to know what things work on babies?” Donghyuck says, following helplessly as Mark heads towards the baby’s room. 

“Think about it like this,” Mark says. “If you were crying, what makes you feel better?” 

“Goldfish crackers,” Donghyuck answers instantly. “And when you rub my back.” 

Mark gives him double finger-guns. “There you go. That’s soothing.” 

“So you’re saying…give the baby Goldfish?” 

Mark shrugs. “Maybe? How old is she?” 

“Like, fourteen months,” Donghyuck says. “I have no idea what babies can do at that age. Can they talk?” 

“ _MAMA_ ,” the baby inside wails. 

“Guess so,” Mark says. “C’mon. We should go help her, right?” 

Donghyuck gives the door a nervous look, stomach twisting. “You go first.” 

Mark, because he’s the best boyfriend in the whole world, opens the door. Quiet ocean noises play in the background and a soft, purple night light glows in the corner—the baby  _had_ been napping, but then she’d found something better to do, clearly. 

Mark turns on the lights, illuminating the baby. She’s on her feet, pudgy hands curled around the bars on the crib, head tilted back as she cries. Her face is red, swollen, and covered in boogers, and Donghyuck is simultaneously repulsed by her, and strangely compelled to help.

Mark goes over to the crib. The baby reaches for him as he reaches for her, and he scoops her into his arms, tentatively settling her against his chest. 

“Mama?” The baby asks tearfully, and Mark pats her back, grimacing as she rubs her face on his hoodie. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Mark says, and begins to sway awkwardly. 

And by a miracle—by the will of God, the universe, or whatever—it works. Her tears stop, and she sticks a thumb in her mouth and sets her gross baby face into the crook of Mark’s shoulder. 

_Oh my god,_ Donghyuck thinks.  _That is so cute and I’m going to die._

“What’s her name?” Mark asks, still bouncing the baby. 

“Uh,” Donghyuck says, drawing a blank as he tries to remember. He just calls her  _the baby_ in his head. He knows her parents said her name, but he’s not quite sure— 

“Claire?” Donghyuck tries, and the baby tilts her head towards him, blinking wide, brown eyes at him. 

“Yeah, that must be it,” Mark says. “You’re a good baby, aren’t you? Claire?” 

“You’re talking to her like she’s a dog,” Donghyuck points out. 

“You’re the one who said they’re the same thing,” Mark says, shrugging. “Besides, it’s working. See?” 

It really is working, and if it wasn’t so damn cute—his  _boyfriend_ with a  _baby,_ come on, it doesn’t get much better than that—Donghyuck would be more upset about Mark being way better at this than he is. 

“Maybe you should’ve taken this job,” Donghyuck says dubiously, following Mark into the kitchen, where he puts Claire down on the carpet, in front of the couch Donghyuck had been hiding behind fifteen minutes ago. 

“Nah, I’m not too great with kids,” Mark says, heading over to the kitchen. “What do babies eat? Carrots?” 

“I don’t know if she even has any teeth,” Donghyuck says, but luckily, Claire sticks a plastic block into her mouth, proving that yes, she  _does_ have teeth. Mark keeps digging for appropriate baby food while  _he_ eats the carrots, while Claire continues to chew on the block. 

“No, baby, don’t eat that,” Donghyuck says, squatting down next to her. 

“Huh?” Mark asks, mouth full of carrots, and Donghyuck _really_ wishes he’d picked a different pet name for him. 

“Not you, the actual baby,” Donghyuck says, pointing at Claire. “I don’t think she should be chewing on blocks.” But when he tries to tug it away from her, she shrieks at him so loudly it makes his ears ring a little, so he leaves it be. 

“You’re scary,” he tells her. “You’re gonna grow up and boss everyone around and get your way, I can just tell.” 

Claire pulls the block out of her mouth and offers it to him. Donghyuck takes one look at it, covered in spit and baby goo and probably a million germs, and shakes his head. 

“No thanks,” he tells her. Luckily, she’s not offended by it, and drops the block on the ground, scooting over to the couch on her butt. 

Then in the blink of an eye, she’s pulled herself onto her feet, gripping onto the couch cushions and edging her way towards the very expensive-looking vase balanced on the coffee table. 

“No, no, no,” Donghyuck yelps, rushing towards her and picking her up. 

“No!” Claire echoes, and squirms violently in his arms, nearly headbutting Donghyuck in the throat. 

“Mark, where do I put her,” Donghyuck shouts, holding on tight to the baby even as she continues to try and dive bomb the vase, wrestling against his grip.

“The high chair?” Mark offers. It takes two of them to stuff her into the chair, because she resists with an impressive amount of vigor and strength, shrieking angrily and pointing at the vase. 

“You absolutely _cannot_ have the vase,” Donghyuck informs her sternly. “You’ll break it. It’s not for babies.” 

“NO!” Claire repeats, slamming her small hands on the high chair tray. 

“No is right,” Donghyuck says, firm. “Now here, have some Cheerios.” He dumps a handful of cereal on her tray, and _finally,_ she shuts up about the vase and eats her cereal. 

“This is exhausting,” Mark says, slumping into a chair at the dining table. “How have you been doing this for two hours?” 

“She was asleep for the first part,” Donghyuck says, joining him. His head is throbbing a little, and Claire munches happily on her Cheerios, unaware of his pain. “God, I’m glad I’m not a dad.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Mark says, and rests a hand on the nape of Donghyuck's neck. “Gimme a couple years to try and kick the weed habit, and _then_ maybe I’ll be ready.” 

“You think we’ll still be together in a few years?” Donghyuck asks, surprised. Given Mark’s skittishness when it comes to talking about the future—it took him  _so_ long to actually start calling Donghyuck his boyfriend, and even longer to agree to count anniversaries—he’s surprised Mark even brought it up. 

“Yeah,” Mark says, and he sounds so sure that Donghyuck is pretty much  _required_ to kiss him square on the mouth, hard enough that Mark nearly tips out of his chair. He grabs Donghyuck by the shoulders, and Donghyuck can feel Mark’s smile against his lips. Mark nips lightly at Donghyuck’s bottom lip and pulls back, wearing the grin that Donghyuck would sell the world for, all dimples and eye-crinkling brightness. Donghyuck loves him. Donghyuck loves him so much that he’d—that he’d literally let babies slobber all over him all the time if Mark wanted them. In the future, that is. Way,  _way_ in the future. 

They look over at Claire, who’s gleefully crushing her leftover Cheerios into dust.

“Okay, let’s not do that,” Mark says, getting up with a sigh and freeing her from the chair. She balances herself against Mark’s leg, clutching the seam of his sweatpants, and then grabs his free hand. Her fingers are so tiny that she can only grab his thumb, her expression determined.

“Where are we going?” Mark asks her, and Donghyuck watches as she carefully leads him back to the carpet, where they sit and arrange blocks and stack plastic foods on plates. Donghyuck joins them after a moment, stretching out on the carpet and propping his head on Mark’s thigh, scrolling through his phone. He posts a video of the two of them—Claire drawing anatomically incorrect sheep and Mark gently pulling crayons out of her mouth—to his private Snapchat story, which Jaemin immediately sends him a message about. 

_Omg a baby I always knew Mark would make the best dad_

Donghyuck sends a few angry emojis in response.  _Dude, hands off,_ he writes back

Dusk falls, and they give Claire her dinner—some mac and cheese and green beans, which Donghyuck  _still_ doesn’t like to this very day. Claire, on the other hand,  _loves_ them. She loves them so much she wants to share them, which means she somehow manages to shove a couple in Donghyuck’s mouth when he leans close, cackling demonically when he spits them out and glares at her. 

“God, if you were any bigger, I’d deck you,” Donghyuck threatens. Claire continues to eat without a care. Mark dissolves into laughter, clutching his sides. 

“I can’t believe you’ve got beef with a baby,” Mark says breathlessly, and Donghyuck gives him a grumpy look. 

“She’s the Devil Incarnate and out to get me,” Donghyuck says, glaring at Claire as she crams a fistfull of pasta into her mouth. “Oh my god, she’s so gross. I’m gonna puke.” 

“Do not,” Mark says, but he’s still laughing so hard he can barely breathe. “I can’t believe you want to be a teacher.” 

“For _fifth_ graders,” Donghyuck reminds him. “Not disgusting babies.” 

“Babies are way cuter, though,” Mark says, poking Claire’s cheek. She gives him a big smile, teeth pearly white and face covered in cheese. “Look at her. She’s adorable.” 

Donghyuck eyes Claire. Claire eyes Donghyuck. “I’m cuter,” Donghyuck says irritably after a long, intense stare-down. 

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Mark says, cheeky, and Donghyuck kicks him hard in the shin. “Ouch! Hey, don’t take your anger out on me.” 

“I can’t hit the baby,” Donghyuck says primly, “but _you’re_ another story.” 

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Mark says. “And you promised you’d stop the shin-kicking if I agreed to start counting anniversaries.” 

“I don’t remember that,” Donghyuck lies blandly. “All I can remember is how you said the baby was cuter than me.” He kicks Mark at again, who jumps back from him, hands raised in surrender. 

“Fine, yeah, you’re cuter,” Mark admits, setting his hands on Donghyuck’s waist, caging him in against the counter. 

“Say it again,” Donghyuck demands, because he’s feeling a little spiteful. _Take that, baby,_ he thinks smugly as Mark leans in. Their noses brush, and Donghyuck clasps his hands behind Mark’s neck. They’re the same height, and Donghyuck can clearly see the amusement in Mark’s eyes as he says, “You’re cuter. There, you happy?” 

“Very much so,” Donghyuck says, pressing a quick kiss to Mark’s cheek, even as Mark tilts his chin up for a proper kiss. But just before their lips touch, there’s an incredibly loud farting noise, and a stink like nothing Donghyuck has ever smelled fills the kitchen, ruining the moment almost immediately.

“Great,” Donghyuck says, pulling back and frowning. “The baby just shit her pants.” 

* * *

It takes them three tries and a YouTube video before they successfully change Claire’s diaper, making a huge, disgusting mess of her room. Even after they spray and the whole place down and Donghyuck washes up to his elbows, he still feels nasty, like he needs a full-body bleach. And even then, they’re  _still_ not done—there’s pajamas to figure out, with its billion snaps. Mark puts them on backwards  _twice_ before he gives up. They set her in the crib, and then Donghyuck has to track down the stuffed elephant her parents said she can’t sleep without. And then there’s figuring out how to dim the lights, turning the sound machine on, and reading a bedtime story about some cows and a typewriter. It should be dumb, but Mark does sound effects and voices, which means that’s actually fairly entertaining and endearing.

Finally, Claire’s eyes close, and her hands relax around her stuffed animal, thumb in her mouth. Donghyuck tucks the blanket around her and the two of them slip out her room, relieved. Donghyuck hovers at the door for a moment, listening to the sound of her breathing just to make sure she’s asleep, not dead, and then follows Mark back into the living room, flopping down on the couch. 

“That was terrible,” Donghyuck says, slinging an arm around Mark’s shoulders and pulling him close. “I would’ve died if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Mark’s laugh ruffles Donghyuck’s hair. “You would’ve been fine,” Mark says. “You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for.” 

“I wish kids were born at age nine,” Donghyuck complains. “That would be way better. I never want to change a diaper again. No wonder all the girls we know hate the idea of being pregnant.” 

“Being pregnant sounds like a horror show,” Mark agrees. “Fuck, I’m glad that’s never gonna happen to me.” 

“Me too,” Donghyuck says, and they both lapse into silence for a moment, listening to the distant sound of Claire’s wave machine. “She was pretty cute, though,” Donghyuck admits. 

“Oh?” Mark says wryly, grinning. 

“Cute for the Devil Incarnate, I suppose,” he tacks on. “I’m way cuter. You already agreed.” 

“I did,” Mark says, and reaches up to run a fond hand through Donghyuck’s hair. “And I meant it.” 

* * *

“You mean to tell me,” Donghyuck says much later, on their way back to campus, “that you’re _not_ supposed to grab babies by the backs of their shirts?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Mark sighs. “No.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, wincing. “Whoops. But it evens out! She shit on my hands, I grabbed her by her shirt. We're square. Besides, she laughed. So it's fine.” 

“You’re amazing,” Mark says, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Honestly. And everyone says _I’m_ the dense one.” 

But he puts his hand in Donghyuck’s, which softens the insult a little, and Donghyuck finally kisses Mark like he’d meant to in the kitchen—softly, sweetly, with all the love he’s got in his body. 

“I’ll learn,” Donghyuck promises once he pulls away. “You just gotta give me like, a decade or so.” 

“A decade sounds fine,” Mark says, and there are the dimples again. “I’ll stick around for a decade.” 

Donghyuck’s heart is close to bursting, and it’s all he can do to grin back. “Good.”

_All thanks to a stupid baby,_ Donghyuck thinks, but he’s satisfied and very in love.

He and Mark hold hands all the way back to campus, and Donghyuck counts the whole night as a win. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [x](https://twitter.com/idoldimples)  
> cc: [x](https://curiouscat.me/conclusions)


End file.
